Knowledge, Honour and Fortune
by xcaliber234
Summary: One seeks knowledge, and to confess her love to a man who does not know her. Another seeks honour, and vengeance for a life torn away from him. The last seeks fortune, and sights beyond those seen by mortal men. A Breton, an Imperial and a Redguard. Their morals differ, their opinions clash, but ultimately they are bound together by destiny.


**_Prologue: To Gods knew where_**

**_Sorelia_**

I had been so close! It had taken me a few years, but I had finally made it to Ulfric's side as the healer for his personal guard. It was hard enough convincing the Stormcloaks to let a Breton into their ranks. Once you start saving the lives of a few men though you start to get recognised.

He had been everything I had imagined. Tall and well built. His hair like the mane of a lion. He was the living image of rebellion. The archetype all Nords aspired to be. I had seen him command forces in battle, seen him defend his brothers and sisters from the cold steel of Imperial swords.

And yet never could I find a time to tell him. Tell him how much he meant to me. I had followed the rumours of him all the way from Daggerfall. The moment I laid eyes on him I had known it was him. He was _that_ kind of man. The kind of man you don't even have to meet in order to know who they are.

I had been so close to telling him to. Had it not been for those damned Imperials He would know the truth. Instead we all ended up with our hands bound in the back of wagons flanked by Imperial troops.

As I awoke from a dreamless sleep, noticed three things were different. My robes were gone, replaced instead by rags that seemed to have been made out of an old sack. My hands were bound; thankfully it was only rope and not chains. And thirdly my powers were being drained and there was a foul taste lingering in my mouth. A magicka poison, a very strong one brewed to reduce my powers to near non-existent.

Not that they would have done much good. I was a healer not a battle mage. I knew enough offensive spells to get me by, but I wouldn't have lasted long against the mages that marched with the Imperials.

I was never good at fighting, one of the reasons I was surprised that Ulfric had chosen me as his party's healer. That Imperial had come out of nowhere, who knew someone could be so stealthy in heavy armour. I suppose I'm glad she had only hit me with the pommel of her sword. Had she actually used the blade I would have been a dead woman hours ago.

As I slowly came to, I realized that a pair of pale blue eyes stared at me. I looked up to find it was Ralof, one of Ulfric's guards. He was a nice enough for a Nord, and he wasn't completely intolerant of other races, which was a rare trait amongst his kind that had joined Ulfric's cause . If anything he was about as friendly as it got when it came to Stormcloak soldiers.

"Hey!" he said, sounding somewhat happy. "You're finally awake! I was worried that the Imperials had taken you out for good."

I put on what little of a smile I could. "Luck, the gods or my thick head, maybe all three saved me."

"The main point is that you're alive, that's what matters." He said as he playfully nudged my foot with his own.

I smiled once more before beginning to get my bearings. All I could tell was that we were on a downward road, heading east…. Or maybe it was south. I couldn't tell.

There were trees and cliff faces boxing us in, a deer or a fox could be spotted if you were looking hard enough. So with all that in mind I was able to narrow down that we were still in Skyrim at least.

I looked back to the wagon, coming to the present.

"Where do you think they are taking us?" I asked Ralof.

"Who knows? Perhaps they'll take us to the Imperial City to stand trial with Ulfric. Maybe they'll slit our throats and leave us bleeding in the woods. Honestly, I have no idea."

Well that was helpful, nothing like the thought of imposing death to cheer your spirits up.

As I continued to look around I noticed that there were more than just Ralof and I in the cart. Two others, a Redguard with long flowing dark brown hair and an Imperial with dark grey hair, but his was face full of youth.

It was kind of ironic, and Imperial taken prisoner by Imperial soldiers. They weren't Stormcloaks, that's for certain. They were both dressed in rags similar to mine, whilst Ralof seemed to be the only one still wearing his armour.

Either way, right then it didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that I was a prisoner, some perverted Imperial had taken my clothes and I was on a cart going gods knew where.

**_Leandros_**

I wasn't sure what was going on. My eyes were blanketed in the darkness of unconsciousness. I could feel that my body was rocking back and forth. Despite my lack of sight I could tell that my hands were bound. The feeling was familiar. I had known the strains of confinement ever since I was a child.

I don't think I ever figured out how I was captured. Usually when I failed I would look back on the events that happened and try to piece together the cause of my failure, be it I made some small noise, there was a guard that I never noticed or I let my shadow stray too long in light.

Either way I had been caught. There was not much to do about that now. Had I known the Legion would be looking for border crossers, I would have travelled further up the mountains.

Why they would bother looking for border crossers confused me. They were fighting a war in the north, not trying to deal with illegal immigration. And yet here they were. Did I struggle? Of course I did, the last time I had Imperial soldiers surrounding me they were marching my parents away to be executed. I wasn't going to let them get their hands on me.

All of my gear was gone as well. My father's old travelling gear and sword. They weren't anything fancy, just a mix of leather and iron and a plain old sword. They may not have been anything physically, but they were the only things I had left of my parents, of the childhood that was torn away from me.

Now where would it have gone? Into some Imperial storage chest most likely. Stored away for years to gather dust before being pulled out and sold at auction as 'criminal possessions' whilst I rotted away in either a prison cell or the ground.

I had expected to be struck. To be beaten until I could resist no more, and beat me they did. I could feel two of my ribs were broken, the pain numbed only by my unconsciousness. As much as I tried I couldn't awake, I'm not even sure whether that was a good idea anyway, the dreamless sleep was the only thing keeping away the pain. And the cold.

And now my father's sword was gone, my hands were bound and I was being shipped off to gods knew where.

**_Tyrio_**

Well, my father always said that someday I would be caught. He said that just as I left home, abandoning the life that my ancestors had forged for me. The family home may have been something to gawk at. It was a shining palace above the slums of Dragonstar. We had at least five gardens, fifteen bed chambers, three dining rooms and treasure chambers large enough to make the gardens look like pot plants.

But that sort of thing never did suit me. I had the taste for the desert. For the great rocky canyons that scarred Hammerfell. It didn't matter where you went, there was always something new to see. Some new cave to explore, a den to clear out and people to meet. I think that's the reason I wanted to leave. For adventure.

So I left. I took enough gold to get me to the next city, a horse, a map, some food, water and my family's scimitars. They were old weapons, handed down through my family for centuries all the way back to some of the earliest Redguards to settle in Hammerfell. They were old, true, but Redguards didn't get their reputation as the greatest warriors by making poor quality weapons.

My father had disowned me the moment I left, not before issuing at least three warnings and even threatened to call the guards on me if I set foot outside the city. That was at least eight years ago now. Since then my travels have taken me through Highrock, Cyrodiil and Valenwood. Skyrim was my next target. Something about the frozen plains and snow capped mountains lead me there. Snow was something you don't see everywhere, so why not go to the place that has the most of it.

Well that was easier said then done. I had heard the rumours of rebellion in the northern province, what I hadn't heard about however was the fact that they had completely closed down the borders, making it nigh on impossible to enter or leave.

However, like all dashing rouges I thought I'd be able to slip by the Imperial patrols, perhaps even charm my way through if there were a few women of the Legion standing guard. Of course like all dashing rogues I was a touch too over confident.

Although in my defence, if I hadn't run into that Imperial chump, I wouldn't have gotten into that mess. If they hadn't noticed him, they wouldn't have been lead to me. Admittedly I was taking a nap at the foot of a tree, and probably should have remained awake. All the same however, it was his fault. And now my hands were bound, my gold was gone and I was being taken to gods knew where.


End file.
